Poems from ceciliakinghorn
The Black (pt. 3)
In the farthest field there is a deep pit
A wound, proclaimed in the dusty outreaches
Of sweeping grass element
Which now...
The Black (pt. 2)
In seventeen years
All the roots have settled
The roots are strong,
They breathe.
In seventeen years
Our...
The Black (pt. 1)
I am not sure what I was expecting
Here;
We have this-
This potential
And those who chip away at it
With...